My Life. My Views

Why the heart burn, why the despondency
why the delusional self, why the desperateness
why the flutter of heart, why the breathlessness
why the agony of loss, why the desolation
why the wild flight of imagination
why the unfulfilled dreams
why the never ending tirade of wants and desires
why a mind immersed in sorrow
why a soul lost in transition
why a sour heart that bleeds
why the gut wrenching want to die
why the intelligence to comprehend it all
why the deception of momentary bliss
why the lies, why the truth
why can’t I rest in peace

In fact, I would go to the extent of saying that the poets are the only ones who have the intellectual right to brutalise the language and still make it sound like Art. What say Manan!? U a poet urself, arent you!? 😉